


Chance of a Lifetime

by julien (julie)



Category: K2: The Ultimate High (1991)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Last Chance for Love, Love as an Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1997-10-10
Updated: 1997-10-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22839238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: The beautiful, persuasive Taylor has talked Harold into trying just about everything when it comes to mountaineering. Now Taylor has a different kind of adventure in mind, and this time it’s Harold who has the necessary experience.
Relationships: Taylor Brooks/Harold Jameson (K2)
Kudos: 2





	Chance of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> **First published:** in my zine Homosapien #5 on 10 October 1997.

# Chance of a Lifetime 

♦

_‘I don’t want to die,’ Harold said. He was lying on that mountain, ten thousand feet above base camp, with a broken leg. ‘But you can still make it, Taylor, you can make it if you go now. I’m going to die up here.’_

_Taylor said, ‘You’re not going to die, H,’ using that determined tone of voice Taylor made things happen with. This time, however, he was not going to work miracles through sheer force of will._

_‘I can’t walk.’_

_‘I’ll carry you.’_

_But it was useless. Harold had lost their only rope when he fell. And there was barely enough time for Taylor to get back to camp before the rescue helicopter left, let alone get down there, get help and return before Harold died of exposure. Harold had accepted the reality of the situation even if Taylor, so much more experienced in adventuring of all kinds, still fought it._

_Fumbling inside his jacket, Harold found his wedding ring, worn on a cord around his neck for safe-keeping. ‘I want you to give this to Cindy. Tell her – God, I don’t know.’ He kissed the gold band, thinking of her smile, her beauty, her forthright honesty. ‘Tell her I loved her. Tell her I’m sorry.’_

_Churlish, Taylor said, ‘Tell her yourself, H.’_

_‘Oh, come on, Taylor,’ Harold said with great impatience; ‘I can’t walk. Now just take it, OK? Just get out of here.’_

_The man shook his head, stayed there huddled over Harold as if there was no other place to be._

_‘What are you going to do? You gonna sit here and die with me? Bullshit!’_

_‘Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?’ Taylor said, voice tight with emotion. ‘You’re the only real friend I have, you bastard. I’m not leaving you here, do you understand that? I can’t live with that.’_

_‘You don’t have a choice, Taylor.’ Harold almost laughed. ‘You never had a problem with being selfish before, it’s practically been your religion. Why make such a big deal of it now?’_

_In a whisper, Taylor insisted, ‘It’s not going to work, H.’ He continued, slightly stronger, ‘You’ve got your wife and your kid, your research, and that’s great for you. My whole life has been about me; my work is about lies and compromise and dealing with the scum of the earth. So I come to places like this with you to find a little grace, you know?’ The wistfulness was replaced by anger: ‘I don’t want to be selfish all my life. I want some nobility, damn it.’_

_‘You want grace, you want nobility, go back. If you’re really my friend, Taylor, that’s exactly what you’ve got to do. I want you to look after my son, and tell him I loved him very much. Please,’ Harold said, thinking of Eric and Cindy and Taylor and himself, ‘you have to go back. Please.’_

_Finally the man agreed with a nod. ‘You’re a prince, H,’ he said. ‘A real winner.’_

_‘You know what I always admired about you, Taylor? You’re a born survivor. I got everything I wanted, but I had to give up everything to get it. Is that winning?’_

_Taylor leaned towards him, hugged him hard though they were separated by too many layers of clothing for Harold to really feel it. ‘I love you, H.’_

_And then he was gone, and Harold lay there in the snow, murmuring ‘Taylor’ every now and then, and crying out ‘Cindy!’_

♦

Almost seven months since he and Taylor had climbed K2, which was plenty long enough for life to have settled back into routine. Harold’s painstaking research was beginning to hint at success, and his grant had been renewed in his absence (for quantum physics was apparently still flavor of the month down here in the mundane world). His leg had finally healed, through all the care and physiotherapy, so he no longer needed a walking stick. He’d always carry a few scars, especially where he’d lost some skin to frostbite, but the pain had gone. And Eric still adored him.

Cindy, surprisingly enough, had been fine about the whole business. She had almost stopped Harold from going on the K2 expedition, scared he might die, resenting even more time he’d spend away from her and the baby. But everything seemed fine now he’d come back, everything was cool between them.

As for Harold and Taylor, well, their friendship was deeper than ever. Taylor still played the sleaze in every other part of his life – he still bedded the office girls, he’d even seduced the girlfriend of a guy he was prosecuting. He still did deals with criminals (knowing that the law had nothing to do with justice), he was still arrogant and irrepressible and determined to win.

But when the two of them were alone, then Taylor dropped most of the bullshit, dropped more of the act than he ever had before. He would be quiet, and kind of vulnerable in a ‘dare you’ way that Harold had never taken advantage of, all with that broad, deadly, beautiful smile.

Cindy really disliked Taylor, of course; had no time for him at all. Some things never changed.

Yes, everything was cool. In fact, Cindy’s face these days was cool, her expression kind of removed, watching Harold with wary interest. He should have seen the end of it coming.

‘I always thought that when I left you it would be for different reasons,’ she said one evening, out of the blue. No, it was more as if she was continuing a conversation they’d begun years ago, or she was voicing a dialogue that had been fermenting in her imagination. ‘I always thought that I wouldn’t want to go, that I’d feel driven away, betrayed by you, hating the way you never quite loved me enough.’

‘What?’ Harold whispered, though in his heart he had already accepted the reality of the situation. His heart that felt as dark and hard and cold as a rock below the summit of K2.

‘Your work and your research, Professor, always came first. Your mountains and your friend Taylor, they came first, too. I wanted Eric and me to be your priority.’

They were sitting at the kitchen table, the remains of dinner spread before them, Eric fast asleep in Harold’s arms. Harold looked at his wife, his beautiful unusual wife, and he was mourning for both of them already.

Cindy wasn’t angry: rather, she was sad. Sad and cool. ‘But now I realize I _want_ to go, I want to find something else, someone else. I want to make my own priorities now.’

‘I love you,’ Harold said.

‘There’s been nothing between us since you decided to go up that mountain, haven’t you noticed? You are always so caught up in your own world. Taylor has taught you how to be selfish.’

‘That’s not fair, Cindy, don’t go blaming Taylor for any of it. I wasn’t wrong to try for everything I ever wanted, sweetheart. I had it all, just for a moment, I had it all.’

She regarded him with that removed interest. ‘I’ll share custody with you, because you were always a good father, for those few minutes every day you allowed us. I’ll be fair, for Eric’s sake, and for my sake, and even for your sake.’

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

‘But I want to know one thing before we end this. Tell me what happened up there on that mountain, I want to know the truth.’

‘Ah,’ Harold said, a small smile stretching his mouth. ‘I would have died up there on that mountain,’ he said in quiet slow tones, ‘but for Taylor. He saved my life, when I thought I was already dead.’

‘You’ve told me that,’ Cindy said with some impatience. ‘You always say that, you use almost those exact words every time, but you never tell me what actually happened. I want to know, I want to understand. Because there’s something between you and Taylor now. Something spiritual.’

Harold frowned at her, then dropped his gaze to Eric. She was right, of course. He’d kept the whole thing close to him, kept the love and the death and the bravery for himself and for Taylor, because it was precious. But he owed Cindy, and this was what she’d asked for. ‘We were climbing down from the summit, just Taylor and me,’ he began, words whispered dry. ‘The pressure was on, because a storm had blown up, and we knew we had to get back to camp within a day or they’d leave without us. There was ice, I lost my footing. Taylor was below me, I took him down with me, only he caught onto the slope, and I fell and broke my leg. We had no rope, no supplies, I’d lost them all.’

‘Yes,’ Cindy prompted.

‘It was my fault, but he never reproached me, never got angry. I couldn’t walk, I was going to die. He sat there with me, would have just stayed there with me, and we both would have died. The only way he’d survive was to leave me alone there, so I made him go. It was the hardest thing for him to do, but I made him go. I gave him my wedding ring to give to you, told him he had to help you take care of Eric for me.’

A nod at this, and Harold thought of how difficult that situation would have been for Cindy and Taylor. But Eric would have brought out the best in them both.

Impossible to tell her more, to explain about grace and nobility, without betraying the heart of Taylor. Instead, Harold continued, ‘There was another man on that mountain, another man from our expedition, his name was Dallas. He was already dead. Taylor found Dallas, and took his rope and stuff, and he came back for me. He didn’t have to come back for me, Cindy. The smart thing to do would have been to keep climbing down to reach the helicopter.’

‘And who’d have thought Taylor wouldn’t do the smart thing.’

Harold couldn’t tell Cindy of the shared pain and utter exhaustion of Taylor dragging him and lifting him and carrying him down that mountain. The terrifying thing about the pain was that you wanted to live despite it, you wanted to live even with it. He wouldn’t tell her of that moment of stillness, hours of stillness when Taylor had – no, not given up. There came a time when even Taylor simply couldn’t go on any further, so he’d curled up in the snow with Harold, had cuddled up to him and fallen asleep, and Harold had known with the sweetest clearest sadness that they would both die.

But, beyond hope and beyond belief, Jacki had brought the helicopter up to find them.

‘I climb mountains,’ Harold offered, ‘because it takes all my strength and all my courage. And because, standing there on top of the world, I know the truth of my life. I don’t find that truth anywhere else, it’s even not in physics.’

‘I know,’ Cindy said. A long moment. ‘There’s more you’re not telling me, but that’s between you and your friend.’

‘It feels good to share this with you,’ Harold said. ‘I’ll try harder, I’ll do better at this. I love you, Cindy.’

‘I know you do, H, but it’s over. The truth is, I wanted you to be something you’re not, I tried to change you. That’s no good for a relationship, that’s nothing to base a marriage on. I’m sorry, H, but I have better things to do with my life now.’

The strange thing was, he could smile. He could say, ‘I understand.’ He could even say, ‘It’s good that you go and live your life now, sweetheart; you be all that you can be.’ Even as his heart became heavy frozen rock.

♦

Whoever said that women liked their men tall, dark and handsome, had got one crucial adjective wrong.

Taylor was the most drop-dead handsome man Harold had ever seen. And Taylor was tall, too; tall and lean and muscled; a perfect body for mountain-climbing and adventuring. But he wasn’t dark, no. Taylor had honey-blond hair, always cut sharp and expensive, but casual as well with that fringe falling every time he moved. In fact Taylor’s hair was flowing honey-gold silk. His eyes were dark, but the warmest of browns. His voice matched the warm richness, even when he was pouring forth his worst patter.

Then there was that killer smile few could resist.

Compared to Taylor, Harold knew he looked terrible, though he’d never really minded. Harold was a complete geek, a nerd of the highest order, with a mess of curly hair no one could tame, glasses he had to wear all the time, a nose too large, and nothing else of significance. With long-suffering patience, he’d had to let Cindy get to know him well enough to see past the packaging before she fell in love with him, all the time worrying of course that Taylor would notice and try to win her. The only reason Harold wasn’t a virgin at that stage was because he’d developed the knack of seducing Taylor’s rejects and cast-offs.

After Cindy threw him out, Harold had moved in with Taylor, of course. It seemed the obvious thing to do.

Taylor’s style was not the sort that could be cramped, so that wasn’t an issue. Almost every other night Harold would wake to hear some woman moaning like she’d discovered heaven in Taylor’s bedroom; every other morning the latest conquest or the self-possessed regular would grab a quick cup of coffee, meeting Harold’s gaze unashamed while he munched his muesli, before dashing off in her morning-after finery. In between times, Harold often had the apartment to himself, and assumed Taylor was getting lucky elsewhere. Harold found himself surprised (and surprised at being surprised after all these years) by the sheer volume of traffic through Taylor’s bed.

It wasn’t that Harold’s presence was interrupting Taylor’s usual pursuits, but there was something that wasn’t quite the same between them. A slight edge, the hint of tension, where before Taylor had been open and comfortable with him. Even when they were alone, Harold and Taylor only seemed to relax ninety-nine percent now, and Harold missed what they’d had. Perhaps it was a natural result of them living together, sharing more personal space-time than ever. God knew they had driven each other crazy often enough, the two of them cramped into a tiny tent on some mountain for nights on end.

Harold began wondering about how and where he could live alone, though the idea depressed him. He didn’t want to live alone, didn’t want to try warming some place all by himself, couldn’t see himself filling whole rooms up without any love, would never banish the quiet barren emptiness on his own. No, he’d far rather be with Cindy and Eric, or with Taylor. But apparently neither option was really possible.

♦

‘You liked being married, right?’ Taylor asked one Friday evening. They’d been sitting in front of the television with a beer or two, watching some stupid movie about a bunch of mountaineers and picking it to pieces. Taylor had provided a surprisingly lame excuse for not going out to hunt the female of the species, and Harold assumed that even Taylor might get tired sometimes. The man asked, ‘What’s so great about marriage?’

‘Waking up with someone every morning,’ Harold immediately replied. Catching Taylor’s smirk, he added, ‘The _same_ someone. Knowing her warmth and taste and smell and touch like she’s all the home you’ll ever want or need, snuggling blindly up to her. Knowing her and letting her know you so well that you can just relax and be exactly who you are, no pretenses. Company, friendship,’ he continued, waving his bottle of beer expansively, ‘good things like that.’

‘That’s it? You didn’t mention sex.’

‘That, too, buddy. Yeah, over time you get to know each other real well, and the sex just gets better and better. You probably don’t believe me about that.’

Taylor was silent for a moment. ‘I’ve never had the chance to find out.’ Another pause, and then he said, ‘I want you to stay here with me, H.’

‘But I was trying to tell you the other day, Taylor, something just doesn’t feel right any more. When we’re alone – not tonight, maybe – we’re usually kind of wary now. Reminds me of how Cindy got during those last few months, if you really want to know. Wary and removed and cool. I don’t want that for us, I don’t want to lose our friendship.’

‘There’s no question of that.’

Harold persisted, ‘I don’t want to lose the best parts of it. We used to be… I never told you this, but Cindy said there was something spiritual between us.’

‘Well, she was right.’

The comment deserved a laugh of surprise. ‘That’s the first time you and Cindy ever agreed about anything.’

‘Except you,’ Taylor said, attention wholly focused on Harold now, the TV forgotten. ‘We both always wanted you to ourselves. I guess you’re a pretty special human being, H. You’re a prince.’

‘Well, now you have me,’ Harold said sourly. ‘I guess you won that one.’

‘I want you to stay here, live with me.’ And then Taylor was talking low and intense, the tones he used when he wanted to talk Harold into something: ‘Lord, how often have we slept together, H? After a night out raging. Up a mountain somewhere. You can wake up to me, you know my warmth and smell and touch already. You know me, you’re the only person in the world who knows me –’

‘What are you talking about?’ Harold whispered, confused, and afraid that he knew what Taylor was heading towards.

The man’s honey-gold voice continued without pause, as unstoppable as an avalanche. ‘You can be yourself with me. I love you, H, because of who you are, and because you’re the only person in my entire life who ever loved me. Company, friendship, we have those things.’

‘Taylor, please…’

‘Stay here with me, H. Don’t leave, don’t miss this chance.’

A brief, awful silence. Harold let out a nervous laugh. ‘That’s it?’ he asked lightly. ‘You didn’t mention sex.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Taylor said in the most seductive of tones, ‘that, too, buddy. That, too.’

‘But… this is completely out of the blue. I wish you and Cindy would stop doing this to me.’ Harold had his hands wrapped firmly around his beer bottle, not caring if he shattered it. He tried to read his friend’s expression, but the lights were dimmed, and the television’s diffuse colors didn’t help. ‘I don’t understand, Taylor. Where’s this coming from? You love _women_ , remember? There isn’t room in your life – there isn’t room in your _bed_ for me waking up beside you.’

‘The room’s always been there, H. I’ve been filling it in different ways.’

‘You’ve been trying to fill it,’ Harold repeated stupidly, ‘with me?’

‘No, not until now. Except with your friendship. Come on,’ Taylor said reasonably, ‘you know this: I love the fucking, but I’m aware it doesn’t mean a whole lot. There were only going to be so many years I could kid myself that the fucking, all the different women, filled up that hole in my life. And then it was too late, H, it was too much a habit to just fuck them rather than try for love. I mean, how do you pick one after you’ve known them all?’ He grinned a little, but leaned closer to draw attention to his words: ‘How did Warren Beatty know that Annette Benning was the one for him? Was it a completely random choice, did she just happen to be the one he was with at the time, or was there something about her he’d been looking for all along?’

Harold shook his head, trying to dislodge the confusion. ‘But, I mean, I’m a _man_ , Taylor. You’ve never wanted it with a man before, have you? This just doesn’t make any sense.’

‘Well, I’ve never done it, but I’ve thought about it plenty.’ He sounded relaxed, as if it really wasn’t an issue. ‘Someone once said to me anyone who’s highly sexed is almost bound to be bisexual; you know, just want to fuck anything with a pulse. But down here, there are enough women to go round. And up there on the mountains, something else fills that hole in my life, or close enough to it. I guess that’s why I climb mountains, otherwise I would have spun you a line before now. Because I’ve sure thought about you, H.’

‘I’m flattered,’ Harold said. ‘Don’t get me wrong about that, I’m not offended or disgusted or anything. But I’ve never thought about it, me and another man. Not really. I don’t know what to think. Which is ridiculous.’ Harold let out a laugh, genuinely amused by his own reactions. ‘I mean, I haven’t had any for weeks, unlike you. The first time I’m propositioned by anyone but Cindy for years, and I’m just sitting here feeling numb.’

And Taylor said, real low and sincere, ‘I’m not propositioning you, H.’

‘You mean you really are actually proposing –’ But Harold couldn’t quite say it, fearing foolishness.

‘I’m proposing marriage to you,’ Taylor confirmed.

‘Oh, now I _know_ you’re joking. What is this? Are we on Candid Camera or something? What’s the punch line, Taylor?’

Silence, with Taylor looking stunned, and maybe beneath the facade he was a little bit hurt.

All right, Harold supposed it wasn’t fair of him not to treat the man seriously. Still… it was such a ridiculously impossible scenario. ‘What happened to, _Love costs too much_? What happened to, _Of course I get lonely, but everyone does, so what_?’

Taylor shrugged this off, apparently annoyed.

‘What happened to calling my marriage and my life a Hallmark card?’

A sudden grin pushed aside Taylor’s discomfort. ‘Hey, you and me, H, we can’t have a Hallmark relationship. They don’t make queer cards, right?’

‘For Christ’s sake, now you’re calling us queer.’

‘Well, what would you call it?’

Harold stared at the man, this friend he’d thought he knew through and through. ‘Taylor, you may have had some time to get used to these crazy ideas, but I’m still catching up, remember.’ A moment before Harold could drop the flat tones, and ask more sincerely, ‘If love is so over-priced, why do this? Why offer me so much?’

‘I love you anyway,’ Taylor muttered. ‘Nothing could hurt as bad as leaving you alone to die on that mountain.’ The silence stretched, and eventually he continued, ‘The way I see it, we get to make this up to suit ourselves. Maybe we can decide love doesn’t have to cost as much. Because I guess you being here made me realize I had a chance to see what life’s like without the loneliness.’

More silence, though it was growing comfortable now. Harold said gently, ‘Love can be a strength, my friend; it doesn’t have to be a weakness.’

‘See what I mean? We can work this out to suit ourselves. What happened to _We **all** make the world the way it is_? Loving you doesn’t have to cost me freedom.’

‘What? You still want to fuck everything with a pulse, no matter what happens between us?’

‘No. No, I reckon that’s a cost. I’ll bear it, I’m willing to pay that price. You said it was worth it, H, you said it would get better and better, if it’s just the two of us, and we get to know each other real well. So maybe the cost won’t matter a damn compared to what we gain.’ Taylor leaned close again, and said very reasonably, ‘Give it a try, H.’

‘I would, I really would, if I felt the inclination.’ Harold met the man’s gaze in the dim light. ‘But I don’t, Taylor, I’m just sitting here feeling numb, and that’s the hard truth.’

Taylor seemed unfazed by this blunt rejection. ‘You’ll feel inclined,’ he said with the absolute confidence he had patented years ago. ‘I know you love me.’

‘Of course I love you, fool. But that doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.’

‘Why not?’

‘There are different kinds of love,’ Harold countered, wondering how Taylor couldn’t know that already.

‘Well, stay with me, H, and we’ll work on you loving me that way. Because I love you; I love you every damned way there is. I’ve never loved anyone else, I didn’t even know my parents, so I guess you’ve ended up getting every kind of love I have in me.’

And Harold probably would have gone for it, just done it despite the fact he couldn’t believe Taylor considered this as anything more than a challenging fuck. Yes, he probably would have done it if he wasn’t so numb. If his body, his instincts had led him into his friend’s bed, then Harold’s heart and mind would have followed willingly enough.

‘ _I’m_ not numb,’ Taylor murmured seductively. ‘I’m wild and willing enough for both of us.’

‘Spinning me lines isn’t going to help. You’re going to fuck your way through the whole damned planet before you die, aren’t you?’

‘This is different. How I feel is different. But I don’t know anymore, H, how to make the loving different, I don’t know what words to say that I haven’t said to a hundred other people. All I can say is I love you, I’ll keep saying that because I’ve never meant it before. Everything about this is new to me. You’ll have to show me how to be with you, how to say things to you, how to be married. Because I don’t have the first idea.’

At a loss, Harold sat back, glanced at the television. That stupid movie had finished, and some chat show was in its final stages: he and Taylor must have been talking for almost a couple of hours. Talking but getting nowhere, never really communicating. Harold sighed, wondering how to end this, how to reach some kind of agreement. Which was when it struck Harold that Taylor was being terribly open with him. Despite Harold’s stated lack of interest, Taylor kept trying, kept talking honestly about things that mattered to him, and it wasn’t just a line. Whatever the reason was that Taylor wanted to have sex with Harold tonight, it mattered and it left the man vulnerable. Taylor had invested a great deal of emotion in this.

Harold turned to find Taylor watching him carefully, anticipation lightening his beautiful face. Slowly Taylor moved, drew closer, approaching as if giving his prey every chance to take flight. And even though he knew exactly what Taylor intended, Harold couldn’t or maybe wouldn’t do anything to stop him. It would be unfair, surely, to not let the man try, to not meet Taylor’s vulnerability with an effort of his own.

Taylor kissing him. No more talking. Mouth and gentle hands were practiced and sure one moment, veering to nervous and untried the next. That was when Harold began responding, to the nakedness in Taylor’s kiss, to the rawness of his need.

The strangeness and the fear of it, the wildness and the subversiveness of it, made it seem like they were seventeen again. What on earth would it have been like if they’d done this back when they’d first met, the two new boys in school each wanting a friend and finding no one else? Back then, Harold had wondered why Taylor, who seemed to have everything required for popularity, was having to settle for the geek. He’d been rather awed by Taylor… What would it have been like back then, kissing that handsome lean golden boy? For a while, Harold let the re-cast memories stimulate his imagination and his participation, and he became urgent. Surely inevitable that he would turn on to sex after this period of abstinence. Odd how familiar this felt, when it was so outside what he’d known.

Soon Taylor was pulling away and standing, grabbing Harold’s hand and tugging him up, eager for the more serious pleasures to be found in his bedroom.

This was no time to be cowardly. Harold stood and followed his friend, undressing with as little embarrassment as if they were at the gym. The moment he felt the world shift under his feet was when Taylor stretched out on the bed, waiting for Harold to join him: that was scary, seeing the man beautiful and naked and full of promise. Almost threatening, the lean muscularity, the… (he was nervous even thinking it) the rampant male genitals.

‘Come on, H,’ Taylor said with that raw need in his voice. Not just a physical need, that was what encouraged Harold; Taylor had an emotional need for him, too.

Harold climbed onto the bed, took his friend into his arms, was welcomed in a matching embrace, began another marathon kiss. And then it became easy again, wonderful to have a warm body moving against his, no matter what the gender. _Sex is sex is sex, I suppose_. Harold was soon so lost in sensation it took him a while to realize Taylor was deliberately holding back, was hungry but relatively passive. Loving and carefully not menacing. Maybe that was wise, maybe Harold wouldn’t have coped with anything else, but he also felt slightly cheated of the fullness of this experience.

There came the moment when, if he was with Cindy, Harold would have grabbed her hips and buried himself within her moist spicy heat. Instead he moaned a little, searching confusedly for another way. No doubt sensing exactly what was wrong, Taylor leaned back a little to meet his gaze, and hoarsely said, ‘You can fuck me, if you want.’

Harold was astounded.

‘Come on, H.’ Taylor sounded disappointed that Harold didn’t simply take him up on the offer. A long moment of fear that the urgency would dwindle away. ‘It’s no big deal,’ Taylor continued in despairing plea. ‘I’ve had a finger or two in there before. Being highly sexed, you just try everything. So go ahead – or don’t you want to?’

‘I don’t know.’ The blunt talk was both reassuring and off-putting.

‘It shouldn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about. Although you are of course much larger than a finger or two.’

‘Don’t flatter me,’ Harold grumbled.

‘Come on, lover.’ Taylor turned within Harold’s arms, stretched back against him.

That long beautiful honey-gold body waiting to be taken, wanting to be all his. _If anyone can resist this_ , Harold thought, _he’s a better man than I_.

♦

It was so damned good that the fucking was the second thing Harold thought of on waking. His first thought was something vague and warm about sharing a bed and his arms with someone he knew so well. He’d missed this comfort. Then, having barely opened his eyes, Harold muttered, ‘I want that again, I want to fuck you again.’

And Taylor was moaning his desire, strangely clumsy until Harold was lying over him, both of them spread-eagled, the intensity of it incredible.

Afterwards they dozed in each other’s arms, both hungry and indulgent about cuddling and holding. At some stage, unsure whether Taylor was asleep, Harold murmured, ‘Did you really like that? Or were you putting on an act?’

‘I liked it,’ Taylor whispered.

‘Tell me why.’

The man shifted, settled again. ‘I’ve seduced so many women; do you think I don’t understand about surrender? How erotic it can be to give yourself over to another?’ Long lazy easy tones. ‘Do you think I’m not happy letting you take your pleasure from me, H? You sure as hell give me pleasure at the same time.’

‘But would you be happy if that was all we did? I mean, if this was going to last for more than a night, would you want more?’

‘A wealth of possibilities to explore, just in you fucking me. But there’s so many other things we can do, too. More equal things. You surrendering to me.’

Harold shivered a little, adamantly not wanting that – but also knowing he would do it if Taylor insisted, knowing he would do it sooner than would be wise, knowing that if Taylor asked him right now…

‘We’re going to have plenty of time to explore all this,’ Taylor was murmuring seductively, ‘plenty of time for this adventure.’

There he was, talking in the long term again. Taylor had even called this a proposal of marriage last night. Crazy, the lengths the man would go to in order to get someone into his bed. Harold sighed. He wasn’t really queer, though he had to admit the whole thing had been easier and more rewarding than he ever would have imagined. As for Taylor, he was too much the restless adventurer, his ego too caught up in getting laid with as many different women as possible.

‘I love you,’ said Harold. ‘I love you no matter what, Taylor. Sometimes I don’t like you very much. Sometimes you disgust me, annoy the hell out of me. Sometimes I like you better than anything else in the world. But I always love you.’

‘I love you, too, H.’ The man sounded vastly comfortable.

‘You’re the only best friend I’ve ever had, and I know it’s the same for you. The friendship is the vital thing here. So I just want to tell you that I’ll always be your friend, and I’ll always love you. This won’t change that. All right? If we got out of bed now and never fucked again, that won’t change the friendship. If we spend the rest of the week fucking, and pretending this is something it’s not, and then you bring some woman home next Friday, and you and me is all over, that won’t change the fact that we’re friends.’

By the end of this ramble, Taylor was propped up on his elbows, looking down at Harold with a confused and desperate frown. A long moment of silence, and Taylor pleaded hoarsely, ‘Have a little faith in me, H. I can’t make this happen all on my own. I meant everything I said, but I need you to have some faith in me or it won’t work.’

Harold’s heart felt as raw as Taylor’s evidently was. Gently, Harold said, ‘It’s not just you, Taylor. Last time I tried marriage I failed dismally, and I didn’t even notice. And we wouldn’t exactly be a traditional couple. I don’t know how to make this work any better than you do.’

‘Then have some faith in both of us, H. Promise me you’ll try.’

‘I’ve broken promises before.’

Taylor groaned, hung his head for a moment’s defeat. But he soon said, ‘Then _tell_ me you’ll try, H. Make up your mind that we have a chance. You and me – we’re the only people who reached the summit of K2 last season. If we’re that determined, we can do anything.’

Harold reached a hand to caress the beautiful face. ‘I just don’t understand where this came from, Taylor. The number of women you’ve been with these past weeks –’

‘Don’t you see? Do you think I usually get it that often? I’m not Superman, you know.’ Taylor grinned self-consciously. ‘Usually it’s Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe Thursdays, too, if I can’t wait. But I guess you scared me, the thought of what I could have with you scared me, and I was in major denial.’

‘All right,’ Harold allowed.

‘I understand women, I know them, I can give them everything they want – except I can’t make a commitment to any of them. Maybe I want something different, something with mystery, something new to learn. Maybe that’s where this came from.’

Harold nodded understanding. Whether the man was right or wrong was irrelevant: at least this proved Taylor had been thinking about it for a while, had felt the urge long enough to analyze it and still pursue it. And Taylor was correct about the women he’d been with: he gave them so much, he even gave them compassion and support and encouragement. Perhaps some were disappointed at the little he expected in return, but mostly they liked him and let him move on.

‘I like a challenge,’ Taylor said, ‘and I guess making this work is as big a challenge as any.’

There was that glow in the man’s eyes, the glow that took Taylor up sheer cliff faces, that won impossible court cases, that demanded Harold’s love and faith. ‘You really want this,’ Harold said in wonder, finally convinced. ‘You really want us married.’

‘If there was a ceremony, I’d do it,’ Taylor avowed with a grin. ‘If you want me to wear a ring, and take out an announcement in the fucking paper, I will.’

A long moment, as Harold tried to deal with the awesomeness of it all. ‘All right,’ he eventually said. ‘But it’s my choice. You’ve got to know I’m not just doing this because you talked me into it.’

‘I could never talk you into anything you didn’t want to do. Don’t you know that?’

‘Your choice and mine,’ Harold said. And they kissed, Taylor’s eyes intense and scared, his mouth hot and needy, veering from giving to demanding and back again. Harold didn’t know whether he was more amazed at what he was taking on, or at the idea it might actually work. At last he broke away, and murmured, ‘You want a ceremony, Taylor, we’ll do that. We’ll figure one out for ourselves. Next season, up a mountain somewhere. All right?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Taylor breathed, and they kissed again.

♦


End file.
